Part 20 (1/2)
”But I don't know how to dance,” Fern protested.
”It's not necessary,” Madison said. He still wouldn't accept her refusal to go to the party.
”I can't dance, either,” Rose said, patting her stomach. ”Too clumsy.”
”You're as graceful as ever,” George said.
”It's sweet of you to say so, dear, but I think I'll find a quiet corner and sit down.”
”Why don't you let Madison teach you to dance?” George suggested to Fern.
”We can start now,” Madison said, getting to his feet.
”I can play,” Mrs. Abbott offered. Everyone looked at her in surprise. ”But not very well,” she quickly added.
”n.o.body's going to teach me to dance,” Fern said, heat rising in her face. I keep trying to tell you I'm not going. But even if I were, I wouldn't let you drag me around the room with everybody watching. I'd feel like an idiot.”
They had fallen into the habit of lingering around the table after dinner to talk over the day's events. The dark, flowered wallpaper and the painted wood failed to provide much cheer, but it was better than the stiff formality of the parlor.
”Well, you two can argue it out between you while we're gone,” Rose said, getting to her feet. ”If I don't get started on my walk, I'll never get William Henry to bed on time.”
”You can move to the parlor,” Mrs. Abbott said. ”I've got to clear away the dishes.”
They ended up on the porch watching Rose and George walk down the street arm in arm. William Henry ran ahead pointing at one thing after another and talking excitedly. But his parents were nearly oblivious to anyone except each other.
Fern had never known that two people could be so much in love. It made her feel terribly alone. She wondered if Madison could feel that way about her. He was spending time with her, taking an interest in her, but there were times when she felt like a reclamation project.
She doubted it ever occurred to him she might have good reasons for behaving as she did. No more than he realized he was the only reason she would consider changing. And she wouldn't tell him. What a stupid thing it was to be in love, especially when there was no hope her love would be returned.
”We can start now,” Madison was saying.
”Now?” she practically squeaked, jerked abruptly out of her thoughts.
”Sure. It's almost dark. No one will see us.”
”If we were having a total eclipse, it wouldn't be dark enough for me to let you teach me to dance on Mrs. Abbott's front porch,'' Fern declared. ”I grew up here. I know these people. They'd never let me hear the end of it.”
”Then come sit down.” Madison took her hand and pulled her toward a bench just big enough for two people.
”I'd rather stand. I've been sitting or lying down for days.”
He pulled her down next to him. She thought of standing up again, but decided he'd only sit her down a second time. Better to let him have his way this once.
”I forget you're the active sort. You probably can't wait to get back on your horse.”
Oddly enough, Fern hadn't missed her horse.
”If Rose says it's okay, I'll take you for a ride tomorrow.”
It made her sick the way her heart beat faster just because she was sitting next to him. She was even more dismayed by the excitement that coursed through her body. She knew what that meant, and she hated it, but she couldn't stop it. It had been getting worse each day. The only cure was never to see Madison again.
But she couldn't do that.
”I can't go riding. What if Papa should see me?”
”I won't let him force you back to work, if that's what you're worried about,” Madison said.
Fern felt something inside herself relax. He was still ready to stand between her and the rest of the world. He still cared.
She wasn't worried about going back to work. She didn't even mind the work. But she was worried he wouldn't want to see her enough to come to the farm. She wanted to see him enough to stay here no matter how angry her father got. ”Why are you afraid of what people say about you?” Madison asked. I get the feeling you won't feel comfortable until you've hidden yourself from view. You've developed a perfect camouflage.”
”I'm nothing but a farmer's daughter.”
She was finding it hard to concentrate. His arm was behind her along the back of the bench. Their bodies were only a few inches apart. They seemed like the smallest inches in the world.
”Trying to look, act, and be treated like a farmer's son.”
”What's so great about being a woman?” she demanded. ”Men are always telling you where to go, what to do, what to say. They don't think you can do anything by yourself except cook, clean, and have babies. You don't even think I can pick out my own clothes.”
”Is that all?”
”No, it's not,” Fern said, trying to put a little distance between them as she turned to face him. ”If you don't want to be the perfect young woman waiting patiently to become the perfect young wife, they try to turn you into a soiled dove, or something just as bad.”
Her whole body s.h.i.+vered as if the temperature had dropped fifty degrees. Memories of that night eight years ago flooded her mind. With fierce determination, she shoved them back into the dark corner where she kept them locked away.
”That's not it,” Madison said. ”You're no more afraid of the people in this town than I am. It's your father.”
”No.” Fern wanted to defend her fatherMadison blamed him unfairlybut she couldn't tell him about that night.
”Rose told me what he said. If he ever lays a hand on you, I'll break both his arms,” Madison swore. ”He wouldn't hurt me. He loves me,” Fern insisted. Madison moved closer. Not much, but it seemed like a lot.
I doubt your father is capable of loving anything except his bank account. What would he do if you put on a dress and refused to do anything except the housework?”
I can't afford to stay in the house, not with just two of us,” Fern insisted, unwilling to admit, even to herself, the doubts in her heart.
”He could hire a couple of hands. Your herd brings in more than enough to pay the wages of two men like Reed and Pike.”
Fern didn't know whether to be angry that Madison had been prying into her father's financial affairs or pleased that he was so concerned about her. She decided to be pleased. That made everything different.
It allowed her to react to him purely as a woman.
That meant he was no longer her adversary but instead an object of limitless curiosity. She wanted to look at him, to absorb him through her eyes and ears. Though she didn't dare, she wanted to touch him. She wondered how it would feel to place her hand on the strong arm that had supported her on the long ride from the Connor homestead.
She looked at his face as if for the first time. She wondered how eyes that black could seem so alive, so full of fire. She wondered what he would look like when he wasn't so perfectly groomed, if his hair fell in his eyes, if he ever went unshaven.
She wondered if he ever got tired of being so independent, if he didn't occasionally long for someone to lean on. She wondered if Boston women expected their men to have the answers to everything. She wouldn't stop caring for a man just because he'd made a mistake.
Of course, people like Madison never admitted to a mistake. That must be a terrible burden. He ought to have somebody with whom he could be himself, somebody who could love him for himself.
She wondered how just being around him could make her feel like somebody else. She didn't understand why everything she had tried to accomplish for so many years should suddenly prove to be the opposite of what she wanted, Most confusing of all, part of her wanted these changes so badly she didn't know if she could deny herself.